


Punish Me

by Sycophantism



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M, Masochism, Punishment, TheMcNobody's Valiant AU, Zug is a brat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2018-12-16 19:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11835339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sycophantism/pseuds/Sycophantism
Summary: Zug was going to get White Hat to snap if itkilled him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ McNobody keeps posting pics that make me wanna write fic so here we gO
> 
> Based on [this pic](http://themcnobody.tumblr.com/post/164039289619/that-little-slug-shit-also-a-little-snip-bit-of) this time. Except I'm taking it to the Dark Side and making it dirty. Fight me.

A brisk morning routine was the best way to start off the day, in White Hat’s opinion. It got you ready to face what was to come, put you in the right headspace to tackle whatever obstacles might present themselves. Crisp attire, tidy living space, and a healthy breakfast were absolute _musts_ for the eldritch hero. There was very little that he was willing to compromise on when it came to his dawn schedule.

Righting his tie and smoothing it down the front of his shirt, he beamed at himself in the mirror. A tick betrayed his momentary discontent and he leaned forward, carefully straightening his collar. Satisfied, he straightened up and struck a ramrod pose, wide smile spreading across his features. Utter impeccability. 

Sufficiently prepared for the day, he struck out into the mansion, his mind on the fresh collection of fruits he’d had Lumencia pick up from the local market the day before. Cantaloupe, papaya, grapefruit, pineapple - the list went on, and he wriggled with delight at the prospect of his impending breakfast. Perhaps he’d make crepes for everyone. Ohh, or maybe he’d use the last of the berries and make himself a parfait… 

Excited as he was for breakfast, nothing could interrupt the flow of his positivity. Daydreams of Lumencia, 6.0.6, and Zug all seated with him at the dining room table, delicately enjoying their healthy start to the day, discussing schedules and progress and all that they had planned for work, permeated his mind and filled his eyes with stars. Reality was relegated to the backburner, at least until something more convincing than past experience could remind him of the truth. 

“Dr. Zug!” he called, voice almost sing-song as he clicked his heels together, bent forward at the waist, and rapped his knuckles on the inventor’s door frame. As lost as he was in his own fantasies, it was ingrained in White Hat’s morning ritual by now to ensure that his dear doctor was, indeed, awake with the rising sun.

White Hat insisted on a consistent and healthy sleep schedule, despite Zug’s constant and emphatic objections. It had taken weeks of forcefully removing the inventor from his laboratory and quite literally restraining him to his bed until he rested for eight full hours before Zug had finally taken to trudging himself to bed at the mansion’s designated curfew, finding that he wasted more time fighting White Hat than giving into his “anal-retentive scheduling” ever would. 

And even so, true to his perpetual nature, Dr. Zug was wholly contrary to White Hat; even with a fixed and sufficient circadian rhythm, he could and would sleep well past noon, getting in more than fourteen hours of sleep at a time, if he wasn’t checked on. As much as he complained about the hovering, he sure didn’t do much to assure White Hat that it wasn’t needed!

The thought process had him chuckling as he cracked the door open, peeking inside. Despite the lack of response, he saw sunlight filtering in from open curtains, and he brightened at the realization that Zug must be awake. “Good morning, doctor!” he announced, pushing the door open with enough caution that he would have time to close it again should any yelps for privacy arise. 

Zug did not shout, did not reply at all; in fact didn’t even deign to look up from his comic book as White Hat froze at the sight of the room before him. It made his very skin crawl to witness.

Dirty clothes lay piled on the ground, likely the work of weeks to accumulate; dishes were stashed and hoarded on every available surface, from desk to dresser to discarded suitcase, with food at varying stages of decay still on them; garbage overflowed from the garbage can, and he could only assume that once it had begun to bounce out, Zug had given up on segregating it and had discarded trash wherever he stood. 

Yet somehow worse than this was the fresh atrocity on Zug’s bed; chips and dip, cheese strings, butterscotch pudding cups, and an array of energy drinks were arranged around the inventor like some unholy summoning semi-circle, with the doctor himself situated in the middle, sprawled back against a mountain of pillows, cheese powder on his fingers as he flipped the page of his wrinkled and abused book. 

White Hat felt something inside of him shrivel up and die. Probably the hope for the day. 

“Dr. Zug--” Stammering, words abandoning him, the hero let his eyes dart around the room. When was the last time he had been in here?! It couldn’t have been more than a couple of weeks ago, and yet it looked as though Zug had been left like an animal without care for months! “What-- what--” He couldn’t properly articulate what, exactly, he wanted to ask. What was this mess? What had happened to instigate this type of affront to hygiene? What was Zug _thinking_ \--

Only after finishing the page did the doctor lift his eyes over the edge of his book, one brow arching. “Hmm?” The insolence of the simple noise was layered on thick, and he slowly, meaningfully, uncrossed his legs and crossed them the opposite way, heedless of the half-empty bag of Doritos that spilled onto the ground with the movement.

“Zug--!!” Voice shrill in horror, White Hat shot a hand out, a swirling portal appearing on the ground to swallow the falling snacks whole. They appeared again out of sight, curled and gingerly clipped shut in the pantry. “Zug,” he began again, regaining coherency as he exclaimed, “ _What_ is the meaning of this?!”

Despite the bag concealing Zug’s face, White Hat could practically _feel_ the man’s smirk. “My room, my rules,” he retorted, looking back down at his book.

White Hat spluttered. As true as it was that he’d promised to give Zug his own personal space, he had made clear that the household had a standard of cleanliness. Although, he reflected that the end of that debate had been more of a stalemate than anything; Zug was not there of his own will, and so could not very well leave if he didn’t like the rules. But still! 

Any further objection vanished from mind as White Hat watched Zug pick up a dip-slathered chip and shove it into his mouth. Crumbs cascaded down his shirt, littering his bed. Hygiene aside, White Hat felt antipathy clawing up his spine. “Dr. Zug,” he began once again, voice wavering with disbelief and indignation, “Is _that_ your _breakfast_?” 

The smirk was cranked up to eleven now, as Zug looked up from his book just to drink in White Hat’s expression. As much as the eldritch was loathe to feed into the doctor’s clear attempts at antagonism, he couldn’t keep his horror off of his face. 

“Enough!” Snapping an arm out, White Hat was quick to handle the situation; tendrils of shadow whipping from the darkest corners, absorbing laundry and garbage and dirty dishes into their realm, until the room was nearly empty. Zug bolted upright, an objecting snarl on his lips as the food was stolen away, every inch of the mess he’d no doubt cultivated for weeks for this very purpose being cleaned away in a matter of second. 

“That’s my shit!” he shouted, throwing his blanket off, ignoring as it too was swept away, portaled to the laundry room. “Fuck off!”

“Language, Dr. Zug, I know I do not need to remind you,” White Hat said, voice tight. “Your belongings will be returned _in proper order_ at curfew. For now, you will be making yourself a proper breakfast--”

“Like hell--!”

“-- and then relegating yourself to your laboratory for the remainder of your day. I will ensure that Lumencia delivers you sufficient food and drink until dinner.” 

“You--” Shaking with outrage, Zug snarled, “You’re _locking me in my room?!_ ” 

“No, Dr. Zug, I am locking you in your lab.” White Hat stepped out of the doorway, posture straight now with tension rather than propriety. “Now _go_.”

Zug spat. “Fuck that,” he growled, dropping in place and sitting on the ground, arms and legs crossing stubbornly. 

Seconds away from forcing the doctor to his feet and _marching_ him to the kitchen, White Hat took a deep, bracing breath, and laid a hand over his chest to physically calm himself. Zug narrowed his eyes, though before he could speak White Hat interjected, “Dr. Zug, I will give you forty-five minutes to make yourself breakfast and enjoy it. And then you will resume your work in your lab. And we will discuss the importance of personal hygiene over dinner.”

“As if, what do you take me for, I don’t need a fucking time limit,” Zug rambled, words ignored for now as White Hat went on.

“If you choose to waste your forty-five minutes rather than partake in the most important meal of the day - and did I mention that Lumencia picked up market fruits yesterday? - then you will simply go without your breakfast, and work on an empty stomach until lunch.” There was a subtle waver to his voice, as though it pained him to make the threat.

Zug stared in disbelief. _That_ was White Hat’s idea of a _punishment_? “Bullshit!” he shouted, lurching to his feet. “You gutless, miserable--”

“Good _morning_ , Dr. Zug,” White Hat once again cut in, taking a steadying breath as he pulled the door closed and excused himself. Yes, he was definitely going to treat himself to that berry parfait now. He wondered if Lumencia had picked up yogurt. He deserved to spoil himself a little bit after this whole ordeal.

* * *

Glaring after his boss, Zug scowled and slouched back onto his bed. “Fuck,” he hissed, kicking at the ground, wishing his trash was still there to give him a more satisfying result of lashing out. Petulant, he reached over and seized his bedside table, knocking it over. Marginally placated, he threw himself across the mattress and glowered at the ceiling.

He was going to get White Hat to snap if it _killed him_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit I got so caught up in work and birthday anxiety that I forgot to post chapter two I'M SORRY AAAA
> 
> Birthday was great and I'm old now so yay! 
> 
> I'll only wait half a week to post chapter 3 AS THANKS FOR YOUR PATIENCE <3 
> 
> Enjoy!!

Zug wasn’t an idiot. White Hat knew that, wouldn’t have the inventor in his employ if he didn’t know that, but sometimes Zug wondered if the hero realized how much he underestimated Zug’s critical thinking abilities. Yes, he was a genius in mechatronic engineering and robotics, and as much as he wasn’t a genius in the subtle nuances of empathy and sympathy, he was perfectly capable of deducing when a “vitally important deadline” meant that a group of heroes were going to be standing off against a villain attack. 

White Hat’s attempts to be coy about the reasons for the rush job were pathetic at best, and infuriating at worst. Yet he maintained the facade, even after Zug called him out in a fit of rage at being patronized so. The hero had assured him that condescension was not his aim, and that, of course, he was not at liberty to discuss the future actions of the hero’s association. 

Rather than push the issue, Zug stewed. And when he stewed, he schemed. _Two birds with one stone,_ he thought bitterly as he rolled a pen up the incline of his drawing desk. As it rolled back down, he lifted his gaze to the ceiling and calculated the amount of time he had very deliberately wasted up until this point. It had to have been at least thirty-two hours, accrued over the span of the last week. It was a difficult task, ironically; Zug was a restless man by nature, hands itching to work, mind craving stimulation and activity. Doing nothing was… probably the most trying project he’d undergone in this lab. Short of dealing with White Hat in any capacity.

But it was about to pay off. The pen clattered to the ground as he glanced at the clock, lips curling under the bag. Right on time - and by that, of course, he meant it literally, to the second (and the millisecond, he knew from one curious experiment) - the door chimed with a polite bell that White Hat had installed when Zug went on a tirade about how god-awfully annoying his knocking was. Completely missing the point, mind you, though Zug had wondered if it was intentional on White Hat’s part or if he really was that dense. 

After the allotted ten seconds that White Hat had established that he would allow Zug to answer before entering uninvited, the door slid open and the hero strode in with an air of happy expectation. Zug had to resist squirming with vitriolic glee with the knowledge of how short-lived that joy would be. 

“Dr. Zug!” he called, chipper as always. Even just the hero’s voice was normally enough to put a damper on Zug’s good mood, but not today. Not today. 

“What?” he responded, rough as usual but with a certain aloof coolness. His tone gave White Hat pause, and the hero carefully approached.

“How goes your assignment?” the eldritch ventured, eyes quickly taking in his inventor’s lax posture and absolute lack of work. Somehow he took this to mean anything good, and he brightened. “Finished already, I see!”

“Nah.” Zug shut that train of thought down with a single, ice-cold shrug. White Hat went still, smile fixed in place but uncomprehending. “I’m behind, won’t be done on time.”

A long silence stretched on between them. It pained Zug to compromise on his infamous work ethic, but there was a point to be made. And it was all a means to an end that he was determined to reach. 

“You are… behind?” White Hat repeated, as though the words were foreign. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.” 

If Zug were a more forgiving person, he’d give White Hat the benefit of the doubt here. Zug was never behind, at least not without forewarning; and with all of the progress reports he’d made, there was zero indication that he was anything but on schedule, if not ahead of it by a considerable margin. 

He had lied. 

And White Hat was having trouble calculating just the amount of subterfuge that had gone into delivering that one, simple line.

 _Won’t be done on time._

“But…” White Hat scrounged for understanding, looking dismayed. “You said… Whenever I asked, you were…” And he had asked, quite often, as he always did; simple check-ins, casual mentions at dinner, any opportunity to make sure his pet inventor was busy away in his lab, though always making sure not to get naggy about it. It was a matter of principle, displaying faith in his employee. Though faith misplaced, he would come to see. 

“Oh, that. I lied.” Zug picked at the corners of his nails, fussing with the skin at the edges. 

“I… But… -- But…” It was clear that White Hat was fighting to find some way to quantify this situation in his mind. “If you’d… needed more time, or… you were struggling… You need only ask--”

“Nothing like that.” Insolence outright _poured_ from every movement as Zug sprawled in his chair, going so far as to prop his boots up on his drawing table. It made White Hat wince, having sought the finest studio design when Zug had requested one. “Just didn’t feel like it.”

This was nothing like Zug’s usual demeanor, and White Hat was beginning to clue in. “Didn’t feel like it,” he echoed softly, gears turning and pieces clicking into place. “You… did this intentionally.” Raising a hand to his temple, the hero gazed at his inventor. “You chose not to work on it. So that it would be incomplete when…” He trailed off.

“When the heroes did… whatever they needed it for,” Zug finished for him, mockingly imitating his halting manner of speech. “Yeah. I’m a _villain_.” He lifted a finger to tap his temple, leveling an unamused look at White Hat. “Duh.” 

“Oh,” White Hat breathed, gaze drifting away as he went over the consequences of this new development. Dr. Zug had sabotaged the hero’s association in such a subtle but precise way. While under White Hat’s own watch. “Oh…” 

Zug watched him with bright eyes, waiting to see that porcelain mask crack. No doubt he had just turned a major operation on its head. Would they even be able to complete their mission without the barrier he’d been charged with completing? Clenching his fists, Zug waited with bated breath. He could see it in his mind, the reports on the vigilante known as White Hat, the ruthless hero that spared no villain even the barest mercy; decimating masterminds and razing malefactors, building a name for himself on a foundation of corpses, a title that would only be whispered with terror and reverence. 

All of it entirely misaligned with the pansy that had plucked him from prison and announced Zug as the newest member of White Hat Incorporated. 

White Hat finally stirred, and Zug jolted from his reverie, leaning forward. “I see,” he murmured, gaze drifting away as he raised a hand to his mouth. “We will… mm…” 

The wild grin on Zug’s face began to contort, slipping, then twisting into a scowl. This wasn’t anger! This wasn’t the outrage he’d aimed for! “What the hell?” he snarled, standing sharply enough to send his chair skittering across the tile. “That’s it? You’re just gonna start planning around it?!”

The look White Hat gave him was less confused than Zug had come to expect, but still there was no rage at his outburst, not even the barest hint of annoyance. It made his blood boil. “I undermined a major hero operation!” Zug shouted, slamming a fist down on his desk. White Hat once again twitched, pained at the treatment of the gift. 

“Yes,” White Hat said, “Well. You said it yourself, Dr. Zug. You are a villain.” Zug stared at him in disbelief. “I suppose I should have foreseen something along these lines… should have had you under closer observation…” Pacing slowly, White Hat mumbled to himself, “Trusting you to report accurately was perhaps too generous of me… May perhaps have to install surveillance…” 

Disbelief gave way to anger, and then outrage. “I’m not a _child_!” he snarled, spinning around and kicking his chair with savage force and precision, sending it skidding across the room to crash into the wall. “Don’t treat me like-- like you’re just _accommodating_ me!” Zug whipped back to face White Hat, stalking across the room. The hero didn’t shy away, watching him with-- with weary resignation. It only fueled the fire. “Reprimand me! _Castigate_ me!” Snarling wordlessly, seizing White Hat’s collar, he shouted, “ _ **Punish**_ me!” 

How the hell could White Hat expect to rehabilitate someone like Dr. Zug without any show of force? What did he think would happen, that kindness and compromise would coax him around to the good side? It was stupidly idealistic, quixotic. It wouldn’t work. He would refuse to let it work out of spite alone. 

And against everything that Zug had wanted to happen, White Hat’s expression _softened_. His hand laid itself across Zug’s, and when the doctor tried to yank away, White Hat gripped him tightly. “What would that accomplish?” he asked, gazing down at the inventor like-- like-- like he’d said something sad, or worthy of pity. “I will admonish you, if you would like me to tell you why what you’ve done is wrong--”

“Fuck off!” Zug howled, throwing himself bodily away and wrenching his hands back. “I _know_ why it’s wrong. That’s _why_ I _did it!_ ” How was it so difficult for White Hat to understand this?

Still there was no anger. Now, only… disappointment. No, no, goddamn it, he didn’t want disappointment! “Then I can do nothing but hope you’ll change, Dr. Zug.” 

“No,” Zug argued, struggling with his words, with his frustration. White Hat didn’t wait for him to gather his wits, turning away.

“I seem to have much more work to attend to,” White Hat announced, striding from the lab.

“Don’t you dare--!” Zug shouted, darting after him. The door slammed shut in his face and he stopped just short of running face-first into it, stunned by the heavy-handed move. Blinking slowly, he stared at the steel frame, before reaching to open it.

Locked.

Narrowing his eyes contemplatively, Zug retreated back to his desk, glancing at the schematics poking out of the drawer, mind distant. Had White Hat been angrier than he’d let on?

Mouth twitching at the corner, a grin threatening to split his features, Zug felt something akin to triumph bubbling in his chest.

With that meager taste, he already knew he wasn’t about to give it up. Oh, no. Not when he was suddenly all the more convinced that the White Hat of old was still in there.

That vicious, monstrous hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I run on comments like gasoline so pls drop a line <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter but y'know.

His displays had been too spread out, Zug decided. He wasn't making his point clearly enough. 

When White Hat walked in to find the kitchen in horrendous disarray, Zug could see the switch flip from pleasant obliviousness to abject revulsion. “What happened in here!” he exclaimed, eyes darting around the mess. Condiments lined the countertop, some open and others closed but half-emptied. The bread box was open, spewing forth the entirety of its contents. The fridge and freezer doors had been left open, and by the melted state of the ice cream cake dropping down to the floor, it had been that way for a long time. Seemingly every cabinet and cupboard was flung wide open, for no clear reason. 

“Snack,” Zug said, knowing how dissatisfying the answer would be as he lounged on the table and took a bite from a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. 

White Hat stared at him, gobsmacked. Somehow he was still surprised when Zug did these things. Even so close on the heels of his “tantrum” the day before, knocking one of White Hat’s vases to the floor in a petulant display of rebellion, the hero had the gall to look like he couldn't believe Zug had done such a thing. A _peanut butter and jelly sandwich_. The mess warranted something closer to a four-course meal, or a buffet, and yet there he stood, going so far as to lean his ass against the table, chewing on a simple, two-ingredient sandwich. 

White Hat fled, and Zug fumbled not to drop his sandwich in his surprise. Then anger set in, and he threw the sandwich at the wall, storming out and leaving the mess.

The next invention came pimped out in black and obsidian flames. He saw that it physically pained White Hat to deliver it, but it was perfectly functional. The hero, renowned for his pastel colour palette, would doubtlessly feel self-conscious about the defense mechanism looking borderline lethal. 

Even his usual escapes were somehow turned against him. Daily chores yielded an assortment of pranks that yielded either terror or despair in their target. Air horns that announced when a door was open, startling White Hat entirely out of his humanized form, fangs and claws and panicked tentacles lashing as he tried to find the threat. It took him nearly twenty minutes to calm his instincts and regain his form. 

The grief of opening the washing machine and finding his articles of clothing, each and every one, stained a vibrant red. He was surprised by the colour at first, not the same muddied shade that he was used to when a forgotten garment accidentally stained his whites, but his confusion was quickly overtaken by sadness. Miserably picking up a waistcoat, he cradled it momentarily before banishing the entire batch of ruined clothes to another dimension, out of sight. This drove him to Lumencia’s room, and he knocked gently. It was a surprise that she opened it so soon, but it seemed that she had been eating something rather than resting.

“Lumencia, dear,” he greeted her with a wan smile. Her own smile, perpetually tired, was returned. “Did you, perhaps, forget a red sock in the washing machine..?” There were times that she could be a little forgetful, if only because her exhaustion could come so suddenly that she would retreat to her room in the middle of anything. 

Humming, slow and thoughtful, she eventually responded in the negative. Thanking her and excusing himself, White Hat puzzled over it, pointedly reluctant to ask the other, more likely, culprit. He decided not to confront Zug, not wanting to give the inventor the satisfaction of seeing that he’d gotten under White Hat’s skin. The eldritch refused to feed into the doctor’s misbehavior.

And yet, as White Hat made his way down the hall, Zug was waiting there, shoulder propped on the wall, staring at him. Hesitating, worried about confrontation, White Hat slowly passed the inventor, intent on pretending that everything was fine. Just fine. “Hello, Dr. Zug,” he greeted, noticing the lack of cheer in his own tone despite his greatest efforts and hoping that Zug wouldn’t.

“Red food colouring,” Zug said instead of a response. White Hat stopped. 

“I’m… sorry?” Even as he said it, he knew what Zug was talking about. 

“I put red food colouring in your wash.” Slowly White Hat turned to look at the inventor, feeling almost… beaten. 

“Why?” he asked, tired beyond measure with these childish antics. 

Zug stared at him, feeling a vindictive glee at White Hat’s misery. But it wasn’t what he wanted, and he put off reveling in that triumph to scowl. “A reaction! Get _mad_ damn it!” 

Exhaustion suddenly flooded through White Hat. “That’s what this is about?” Zug was back to that old query again. White Hat’s past as a vigilante, a savage hero. No, no, no. White Hat shook his head. “You aren’t going to make me angry, doctor. I’m disappointed, yes, but at most you’ve managed to elicit…” Contemplating, he finally sighed and said, “Exasperation.” 

“Fucking--”

“Language,” White Hat said, “Please.” Lifting a hand to his head, White Hat took a deep breath, then waved a hand. Shadows snapped into place around Zug, startling him. “Please go to your room, Zug. I fear I can’t handle your tantrums right now.”

Zug was dragged into the wall, his muffled shout of, “ _TANTRUMS!?_ ” doing little more than echo in his own room where he was deposited. Temper flaring, he stormed to the door, hammering and kicking on it as he shouted. _Tantrums,_ he thought, livid. Tantrums! 

But was White Hat wrong? 

Zug narrowed his eyes, fists resting heavily on the door. He’d been acting out, yes, doing everything that elicit a reaction from him; the despair of damaging his clothes, the panic of startling him, the horror and frustration orbiting disorder. But Zug’s strategy had one fatal flaw.

Amplifying any of those emotions wasn’t going to build them up into anger. Pure, unfiltered, proper _rage_. 

Turning away from the door, Zug retreated to his bed, sitting and staring across the room. 

It was time for a change in plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Escalation._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short chapter, fair warning, but...
> 
> well, you'll see.

In all honesty, Zug wasn’t sure how to prepare himself. Lounging back in his chair gave off the false impression of relaxation, but inside he was thrumming with nerves. Should he be worried? Excited? After taking that final step, committing to never going back, he was finally wondering if he was pushing for something he really ought to not be. Frowning, lips pursed, he shook the thought away. Waiting was just making him paranoid. This was what he’d wanted; it wasn’t like White Hat would kill him, so he had nothing to be afraid of. Even back when White Hat was still prone to that savagery, it had only been doled out to the most dangerous of villains. 

Zug might qualify, if he weren’t under White Hat’s thumb. Although with this new antic, perhaps he was pushing his luck… 

Again, Zug scowled and spun away from his table. No way. White Hat was strong enough to handle it, although the hero probably wouldn’t expect Zug to have that much faith in him. In White Hat’s eyes, Zug was lashing out in a most treacherous way. A way that would require far more than a stern talking to or a grounding. 

Zug’s nerves alit with excitement all over again. The next time he saw White Hat, that facade would finally be gone. The mask would be off, and he’d get to see whatever remained of that vigilante of days past. 

It took longer than he’d like. Fussing over his assignments to keep his mind from wandering too far again, Zug burned through the time as quickly as possible. When the alert for the front door beeped, he looked up, surprised. He’d expected it to slam open. Instead, the light went out when the door was closed. 

Unconsciously holding his breath, Zug tracked the progress from the front door to the entrance of his lab. Well before White Hat could have crossed the distance without using his powers, Zug heard the locks disengaging. No knock? Oh, he’d done it this time. White Hat was too impatient to walk, too mad to knock. 

Lowering the work in progress, Zug turned in his chair as the door slid open. There was an inkling of smug satisfaction when he saw White Hat wasn’t smiling. The feeling froze when he saw the darkness in White Hat’s eyes. 

Behind the eldritch, shadows pried the door shut forcefully as he said, low and cold, “We need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ☆=(ゝω･) shit's getting STARTED


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... forgot to update this... I'm so sorry.

“How’d the demonstration go?” Zug asked, propping a cheek on his hand even as his heart pounded in his chest.

White Hat didn’t move for the longest time, and then Zug saw him slowly clench his hand. Physically restraining himself. Sweat began to bead on Zug’s brow. 

“So it _was_ intentional,” White Hat said, his voice that same soft undercurrent of his usual tone. 

Zug waited, letting the silence speak for itself. Taking a deep breath, White Hat spoke, careful and slow, “When the… barrier… imploded on its container, the shrapnel struck seven people. The two within the barrier were knocked unconscious by the force of the shockwave when the barrier passed through them. An attendant by the electrical outlet was injured by the discharge it caused.” Well… a bit more destructive than Zug had calculated. But nothing beyond White Hat’s abilities. “All of them were hospitalized. One of them went into surgery to save her eye.” Zug felt a hitch in his pulse. “One within the dome was rushed to surgery to restart his pacemaker.” Why the hell was someone like that at a hero’s conference?! “The attendant will have scars on her arm for the rest of her life. She wasn’t even a hero. A technician supplied by the hotel.” 

A heavy silence followed. Part of Zug began to wonder if White Hat was finished, or merely building up to tell Zug that someone had been killed by his little stunt. Zug swallowed the lump in his throat, but kept his body language slack. He waited. 

“Someone could have died,” White Hat said, enunciating each word with great care. 

“So p--”

A shadow lashed around Zug’s head from behind, covering his mouth. Startling badly, Zug grabbed at the tendril, chest heaving as he stared at White Hat.

“No. You don’t get to speak right now.” Raising a hand, as though asking for silence like he hadn’t just enforced it, White Hat took another steadying breath. He had clearly held onto a shred of hope all this time that Zug had not been responsible, that it had been an honest mistake on the villain’s part. 

Noticing a tremor in White Hat’s hand, Zug stared at the hero. He was clearly shaken, seeing that those people were hurt because of someone he had sworn to keep the world safe from. It was, then, White Hat’s fault. 

Slowly curling his fingers in, clenching a fist, White Hat’s tremble ceased. Lowering his hand, his expression fell back into that same dark look he had walked in with. Turning it on Zug, the eldritch began to take slow, measured steps across the lab. 

“You’ve devised an impossible scenario for me, doctor,” White Hat said, and Zug gulped as he dug his fingers into the shadow around his mouth. “If I continue to deny you, then you will persist in your escalation. Yet if I do give you what you desire, then I’ll only be encouraging you to repeat your transgressions to get your way.” Stopping in front of Zug and towering over him, White Hat fixed his gaze on the inventor. “So what am I to do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one, but things kick off after this!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter but //winks// an idea of what's to come. An inkling.

A heavy silence hung in the laboratory. White Hat had yet to move from where he was gazing down at Zug. For his part, Zug knew he couldn’t escape the shadow’s grip, and he wasn’t sure struggling would inflict the usual guilt that had the hero relenting. Wanting to maintain the illusion that he retained some shred of control over the situation, Zug didn’t test it. 

White Hat turned away, but the shadow stayed in place. He paced the length of the room with slow, measured steps, the calculated strides that Zug knew meant he was deep in thought. He really was trying to figure out a way around this conundrum. Not to say that Zug had intended for this to come about of his meddling; he’d wanted to see White Hat’s composure crack, to see evidence of that same amoral vigilante beneath the pristine surface of etiquette and conventionality. Just a glimpse would have satisfied that curiosity.

Or would it? Shifting in his chair, Zug swallowed around a dry throat, knowing he should be annoyed but only feeling apprehension. Every hint that his theory was right had him pushing, wanting to see more. When would he have stopped pushing? When White Hat threatened his life? Or would he have considered it cowardly for the hero to back away before striking the final blow? Would he have ever been satisfied?

Maybe White Hat was right. Brows furrowing, Zug looked down at his boots, contemplating. It wasn’t supposed to be that deep; he was a control freak by nature, and he always went out of his way to map out the unknowns so that he would hold all of the cards. It was why White Hat had failed so many times to capture him. It was why he was a good inventor. So it stood to reason that he’d want to know the extent of White Hat’s facade of formality, to understand what exactly pushed his buttons or twisted his arm. What would it take to make the eldritch snap? 

Okay. So he’d pushed too far. Zug could accept that. Shrugging to himself, the inventor lounged back in his chair, lifting a bored look toward his boss. Eventually the hero would come up with some inconsequential penalty, dole it out, and Zug could… what? Certainly not admit that he was wrong. He hadn’t been, not really. White Hat was the one so stubbornly clinging onto this pretense of purity. 

White Hat stopped his pacing, reaching up to pinch the bridge between his eyes. Then, appearing to steel himself, he returned to standing in front of Zug. 

“I’m loath to take such… callous measures, but doctor, I’m unable to conceive of another solution to this trap you’ve placed me in.” 

Zug resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _Callous._ White Hat didn’t know the meaning of the word, not in practical demonstration. This would be a fun one.

“Truly, this goes against everything I would consider productive in aiding a villain’s rehabilitation. But you have proven to be…” The words trailed off, and White Hat’s gaze drifted, fixed on some middle distance. Curious now, Zug waited for the hero to finish. 

Instead, White Hat blinked, seeming to return to himself, and slowly shook his head. “I digress. Dr. Zug, your behavioral issues have become a hazard to innocent lives. I must take responsibility for keeping you in line.” Offense suffused Zug’s muscles and he jerked at the shadow with a snarl. 

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected White Hat to do, but what happened hadn’t even been within the realm of possibility. Tendrils shot from the darkness beneath his chair, lashing around Zug’s wrists and wrenching both of his arms down toward the ground. Frozen in shock, his eyes widened behind the goggles, kicking out reflexively and yanking on the binds. They stuck fast. 

“I will be exercising… precautionary punishments, for the time being.” Zug stared at him, uncomprehending. White Hat cleared his throat. “I will neither humour your outbursts by punishing them, nor will I ignore them and allow you to escalate further. Instead, a schedule will be established, and routine discipline will be carried out, regardless of your behavior leading up to the day.” 

Gears turned over in Zug’s mind, trying to work out what this meant. Routine punishment? No matter whether he was on his best behavior or went on a destructive rampage, he was going to be punished. Immediately he was indignant, brows furrowing as he muffled his shouts of anger against the shadow. Still the darkness didn’t relent its grip, if anything growing tighter and pulling his arms down. Feeling the bones creak in his shoulders, Zug winced, breath shivering for a moment. 

“This is far from ideal, I hope we can both agree,” White Hat continued on, ignoring Zug. _Ignoring_ him. White Hat never ignored him. “But with the circumstances presented to me, I see no other solution that may get through to you.” 

The eldritch turned his gaze on Zug and the scientist felt ice slither down his spine. It was the nearest he'd felt to a concrete answer to his question; that coldness in White’s eyes, as though looking at an insect. Something galaxies away and insurmountably, incalculably powerful looking down on him. Every instinct, every synapse in his lizard brain, every strand of prey-coded DNA in his genetics had him shrinking back against the chair, away from White Hat. There was a danger, a threat that permeated the air, bypassing his every honed brand of mental defence and reducing him to an animal cornered by its natural predator-- or worse, a creature so high above the apex that fear whispered surrender at the mere face of it. 

White Hat turned away, and Zug’s heart began racing only after eye contact broke. Breathless, huffing for air through his nose, he stared at the eldritch’s back. That was what he worked for. That kind of a monster existed, had worn the mask of compassion in front of his very eyes and eluded all but the most dogged of suspicion. 

Zug squeezed his knees together, waiting for the vertigo to pass. 

“We’ll not begin now,” White Hat said, speaking slowly as though doling out each word were an effort of great concentration. “Lest it feel too much like a direct punishment. We will… schedule a meeting. Tomorrow. Please come to my office in the morning.” He was hurrying now, making his way to the door, trying to escape. His own feelings, Zug suspected, that demon with a craving for retribution. “Good night.”

White Hat rarely exercised his powers in flagrant or casual displays, but he passed through the door in his tizzy, caught up in the whirlwind clearly afflicting him.

It took ten minutes for the shadows to release Zug. Had they been forgotten? The scientist rubbed his wrists, staring at the faint ring of bruising that was beginning to rise. 

Indignity warred with prurience. White Hat was going to punish him. Routinely. On one hand, this hadn't been his intention, and the prospect was almost patronizing. 

And yet he was still hard from the fear, and he felt his lips twitching into an uneasy smile. This was going to be… interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :^)


End file.
